


Bound Up In Our Love Tonight

by EniciaPop (Enicia24)



Series: I'm Yours [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, I'm Sorry, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, ROPE because i am unoriginal, back at it again with my soft dom/sub johnyong au, i don't know how it got this long, soft dom johnny, soft sub taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enicia24/pseuds/EniciaPop
Summary: a sequel to make it rough (here to the end), wherein we get a look into Taeyong's headspace regarding his love for Johnny and the life they're living as idols*the very beginning starts at the last of Limitless promotion performances





	Bound Up In Our Love Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone, this was only supposed to be like 3k at the most but i am apparently unable to keep my thoughts about taeyong's thoughts to myself and here we are  
> also sex...  
> um i'm sorry and thank you for reading

“Knock it off.”

Taeyong turned to Yuta with a confused sound.

“Stop thinking about Johnny.” He hissed through a smile as a camera swept past them.  Taeyong could feel his face warm and was suddenly thankful for the layer of makeup he had on.

“Don’t try to deny it either,” Yuta cut him off before he could even open his mouth. “That’s your ‘so in love with Johnny Seo’ face, you make it all the time when you’re thinking about him, or looking at him, or talking to him.  It’s gross.  Almost as bad as his ‘so in love with Lee Taeyong’ face.”

Taeyong flushed even more and inwardly gave thanks to the cordi noonas and the dim backstage lighting.

“Just because I’m in a happy relationship doesn’t mean we’re gross Yuta.” He whispered back, also plastering a smile on just in time for another roving camera.

“You two are all over each other.  All of the time.” Yuta told him with as straight a face as possible. “You guys literally pine for each other, even when you’re together!”

“You’re one to talk with how much you touch Sicheng.”  Taeyong shot back.

“He likes it,” Yuta defended himself. “He plays hard to get then always comes back for more.  What we have is special.”

“Oh right,” Taeyong rolled his eyes, delighted that there was finally something he could use to pay Yuta back for all the teasing. “That’s why he does the same thing with Taeil-hyung.”

“Shut up or I tell Johnny what you have planned for tonight.”  Taeyong blanched at the threat, no one knew what he had planned but him.

They maybe had an idea because he was hardly subtle in his questioning if anyone was going out that night, and he and Johnny were hardly subtle about what they got up to in their alone time, but no one knew the details.  So he fully turned to Yuta and pointed an angry finger at him.

“Nakamoto Yuta, I swear if you even breathe one word to Johnny-“

“One word to Johnny about what?”

Taeyong’s eyes widened and a slight turn of his head revealed that Johnny and Doyoung had made it into hearing range of him and Yuta with Jaehyun not far behind.  Johnny looked half confused, half amused and Doyoung looked all malicious delight.

“Oh are we spoiling the su-“  

He was cut off by Taeyong lunging towards him.

Unfortunately for Taeyong someone caught him round the waist and pulled him back before more than a few flailing slaps could hit the laughing vocalist.  Or maybe fortunately for Taeyong, considering the someone who caught him was his favorite person to be caught by. 

Johnny pulled him back till he was settled on his own feet and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You guys are really lucky none of the cameras were on you.”  He said with that tilted smile that meant he was joking but there was undercurrent of serious warning in what he said.

Taeyong allowed himself a few seconds of calming breaths under Johnny’s touch before placing one of his hands over Johnny’s and giving it a small squeeze as well as giving the man a small smile.

“I’m going to check on the kids, make sure they’re ready to go.  Maybe see what the popular vote for dinner is.”

“Okay Tae,” Johnny smiled, Taeyong melted a little inside. “Have fun.”

“Yeah have fun _Mom_.”  Taeyong snapped his head towards Doyoung and narrowed his eyes at the familiarly teasing tone that would edge into hostile if no one kept him in check.

“Don’t forget who cooks the food you eat most of the time Doyoungie.”  He said in deceptively calm tone and turned towards the dressing room. 

Before he made it in he heard Jaehyun mutter, “Well that’s not ominous at all.”

“And now I’m **really** glad we’re going out for dinner and movies tonight.”  Doyoung replied faintly.

Taeyong entered the room with a satisfied smile.

Later on once Mark and Donghyuk had been dropped off at the Dreamie dorms, bags of take out in hands, everyone else was preparing for a celebratory night out.  Taeyong had said he was going to stay back tonight, letting everyone else get showers before him, and after a few deliberate looks Johnny had said the same.

A bit jittery, Taeyong kept himself busy with little chores that had fallen to the wayside the last few incredibly busy days of promotions. 

A few dishes to wash and put away, some past expiration leftovers to get rid of.  A few shelves to dust off and windowsills to wipe down.  Little household things that putting to right gave him an instant feeling of relief.

Once the others were heading out the door he finally got a shower and spent a near luxurious fifteen minutes washing the weeks of earlier than early morning wake ups off.  The lack of people knocking for him to hurry or begging to ‘please can I come in I just have to pee’ were wonderful.  Only made better by the knowledge that tonight kicked off the amazing gift of two whole days with little to nothing on anyone’s schedules.

Rubbing himself dry and wrapping the towel around his waist, grabbing a dry one for around his neck, Taeyong peered into the mirror to make sure he’d washed all the makeup off and applied a quick cleanser.  Some cold water to shock his pores into closing and another pat dry were all he allowed himself to stall for.  A deep breath and he let himself relax a little before opening the door and making the way to his, their, room.

Before Johnny, he’d been getting by for years on what he now knew were self drops, generally considered to be somewhat dangerous and personally considered to be internally unfulfilling.  He tried tapping into that old habit of holding and counting breaths and self induced shivers to loosen his tension. 

A few minutes and he shook it out. 

Some drops of water flinging from his still damp hair.

Opening the door to his room and there was Johnny.

Taeyong felt his breath catch and release in one smooth motion, nearly unnoticeable if not for the actual skip in his heartbeat and the fact that he’d been feeling it for years when he saw Johnny so he knew exactly what it felt like. 

Bronzed out in the light from a desk lamp.

Relaxing into pillows at the head of the bed while on his phone.

Looking up to see Taeyong, and there were those eyes that flashed dark and bright and loving.

And Taeyong could actually feel the weight slip from his shoulders a little and his heart become a light light thing that barely needed blood to beat because Johnny Seo loved him and he loved Johnny Seo.  And he knew there was a splitting grin on his face.

And two or three years ago he would have told himself he was being too obvious, too open about how he felt and what he felt and how much he felt, but now it didn’t matter.  Because they were alone and they loved each other and they were together and they loved each other.

Because they didn’t have to speak with the way that Johnny put down his phone on the dresser and spread his legs and patted the bed between them for Taeyong to come sit down.

Because there was a warmth that they both craved from the other.

So Taeyong sat between Johnny’s legs and let the older man rub the towel to his hair. 

It was soothing for both of them.

These small shows of care and taking care of.

Gentle ruffling turned into gentle pats turned into kisses gently pressed into his shoulders.  Taeyong let himself slip a little into the warm feeling of hands and lips and care.  Letting himself feel cherished for a few moments before clearing his throat.

Johnny made an inquisitive sound into his left shoulder blade and Taeyong felt a full body shiver at the tiny vibration.

“I uh, I have something for you.”  He managed to get out.

“Oh,” Johnny leaned back and a teasing lilt entered his voice. “Is it the surprise you were ready to jump Doyoung and Yuta over?”

Taeyong flushed and pulled himself out of Johnny’s embrace.  A nod and he bent to pull a bag out from under the bed.  He shoved it into Johnny’s hands and anxiously watched his reaction hoping he hadn’t made a mistake.

Watched as Johnny sent him a half smirk as he opened the dark plastic bag and watched as that expression fell away to one of open shock as he pulled the surprise out.

“You’ve mentioned, before, that I would look good, um in, uh,” He trailed off as eyes nearly as dark as the black rope in Johnny’s hands stared into his own.  A bit breathless he was barely able to ask, “Do you like it?”

“Oh baby,” Johnny grinned, unrestrained and a little hint of darkness but full of love, and placed his hands on either side of Taeyong’s face. “I love it, and you will too.”

Taeyong felt his shoulders fully slump and a warmth spread through his body as Johnny pulled him in for a deep kiss, he’d done good.

-

Taeyong was not great at emotions.

Some were dull echoes of things he knew he was feeling but didn’t really feel.

Some he felt so sharp and acute that it was a knife filleting pieces of his heart and presenting them on a platter.

Sometimes he was the knife and the platter was music that he dressed and made pretty and appetizing for others to enjoy.

Sometimes people could guess that they were seeing, hearing, feeling, pieces of his heart and soul.  That he was laying out the meat and muscle of his mind for consumption.

(And wasn’t that what all artists truly did at the core of their work?  Create something out of nothing, out of their selves, take a part of their self and mold and twist and present it, just for others to see and feel.)

Sometimes when he gets songs, pieces of himself that he’s willing set out into the world, back from management Taeyong felt like the assistant of a temperamental cook.  He’d done the work, put in the effort, but if there was something just the slight bit off or deemed not right, not up to the standards or image of what the ‘dish’ was supposed to be it could be scrapped to the bone and he would be left with nothing but an empty plate and the words ‘do it again, but right this time’.

A sous chef whose creativity and skills didn’t always match those of the executive chef and could be demoted or possibly be tossed from the restaurant as a whole on a whim.

-

“Doing so well baby.”  Taeyong can’t see them, but he can feel the brush of Johnny’s lips against his rim.

Feel the way his words vibrate against the skin as his fingers twist just so past his prostate.

And together they draw a long high whine from Taeyong.

Hands clenched around the headboard, exactly where Johnny had put them what seemed like hours ago when he’d pushed Taeyong to his stomach and started kissing down his spine, and legs splayed out just perfect for Johnny to kneel between them. 

Taeyong wants to bury his head in a pillow.

Wants to cry into it. 

Bite it to muffle a near scream as Johnny spreads his fingers out and licks into him with an enthusiasm he never knew someone could have while eating him out.

But Johnny told him no hiding.

Said he wanted to hear exactly what Taeyong sounded like.

“Wanna hear every sound out of that beautiful mouth, baby.” He’d told Taeyong, pushing a pillow under his stomach. “Wanna hear you fall apart for me, Yongie.”

And it was like every muscle in his body had seized and let loose all at once. 

“Think you can be my good boy?  Make pretty sounds for me, honey?”

And he could feel himself get hard at the suggestion.

Johnny could probably make him come just by speaking.

He loved the sound of Johnny’s voice.

Loved the way it was coated with warmth and a deepness that was all bundled under blankets on a winter day cozy.  Colored with emotions like he was so absolutely comfortable in his own skin that he didn’t need to control his expression.  Tenderness made its home in Johnny Seo’s voice and moved into Taeyong’s heart like a long term tenant.

And that voice, turning deeper with authority and pleasure, telling him he was a good boy?  Telling him what to do and how he was supposed to do it?

He loved that just as much.

So he didn’t try to muffle the moans or the keens that Johnny brought out of him.

Didn’t try to hide himself away from the absolutely filthy **wet** sounds Johnny was making with him.

The way Johnny made him feel, tongue and fingers taking him high and tight and so so good or summer sweet words that induced giddiness, was nothing to be ashamed of.

“You’re close aren’t you, Taeyong?  You wanna come for me, baby?” 

Taeyong nodded his head best he could.

Johnny pressed and circled with all of his fingers and Taeyong came with a series of full body shudders and half clipped whines as he tried to breath but each exhale came out high and desperate.

And maybe Taeyong was hearing what Johnny was saying over all the blissed out endorphins running through his body.

That Taeyong’s emotions and thoughts and actions were nothing to be ashamed of.

-

Taeyong occasionally writes down, a scrawl in a notebook or disjointed words on his phone, how others make him feel.

The special things he sees strangers do for each other that makes him a little tingly with human kindness.  The sweet idiosyncrasies in friends that leave him pensive about character development.  The bubbling spring of love in his chest for Johnny that he feels at the mere mention of the older boy, let alone the geyser that bursts in his heart every time he’s with him.

He had enough material by now that he could spend the rest of his life making music about what Johnny made him feel, about what Johnny meant to him, if SM would let him.

-

Sometimes Johnny fucks him on his hands and knees.

Most of the time, Taeyong is on his back and spread out and open for Johnny to touch and cherish and worship. 

They both love it.

Johnny really loves it.  

To have Taeyong looking at him as he touches the best and worst places of his body.

To have that intimacy of being face to face.

Taeyong loves it to.

But Taeyong also loves it when Johnny is behind him.

When he’s got a hand on the back of Taeyong’s neck, grounding him and putting just enough pressure there that it feels like he’s holding him down, holding him together, and his hips are snapping forward with just the right amount of force that it pushes him up the bed by small increments till the top of his bowed head mashes into pillows.   And Johnny will pull back and up and they both are on their knees and his arms are around Taeyong and there is no space between them as he just keeps fucking into him.

“You’re so amazing baby.”  Traced into the shell of his ear.

“Love you sweetheart.”  Mouthed into the back of his neck.

“Such a good boy for me.”  Whispered into the crown of his head.

Taeyong loves it.

Loves being covered, Johnny solid and real behind him with his arms around his waist and chest. 

Having that bigger frame across the expanse of his back and around the soft vulnerable flesh of his belly.

A real physical weight that he wants there, that he needs there now that he knows he can have it.

Someone holding him in as they take him apart.

Taeyong loves it.

To be honest Taeyong loves anything and everything they do as long as they do it together.

-

“Yongie.” 

A sigh. 

Exhasperated.

Fed up.

He’s taking too long.

Too long with not enough to show.

And what he does have isn’t good enough to even show.

And

And oh god he’s never going to get it right.

None of it.

And they’re going to tell him he can’t be here anymore because he can’t produce anything good anymore and oh go-

A hand on his shoulder.

It’s warm.

And soft.

And it slides up to cup at the back of his neck and there’s a thumb rubbing at his skin.

Soothing.

Taeyong didn’t realize his breathing was going quick till he took a full deep inhale under that touch.

Probably on the way to hyperventilating because he’s just been so on edge, they want so much so soon and he hasn’t been doing enou-

The hand tightens and another comes to nudge his face away from the computer screen.

“Johnny.” It comes out in a rush of air.

Maybe a whisper, maybe a sigh.

But all relief.

(Nearly a prayer if Taeyong is honest with himself.)

“Hey baby.”  He croons with that barely showing teeth grin and his eyes scrunch just a little, just a very very little, and his voice is so so nice in Taeyong’s ears. 

It’s a little low and it’s a little light.

And it’s the best damn thing Taeyong has ever heard.

“Time to go home, sweetheart.” 

Correction that is best damn thing Taeyong has ever heard.

And it’s a tempting tempting tempting offering before him.

He’s so tired.

And everywhere Johnny isn’t touching him is now goose pimple chilled and he doesn’t know how long he’s been like that, just that he didn’t feel the cold till there was warmth to be found.

He’s so very close to nodding his head and just leaving the computer and the studio and the company and spending the rest of his life in Johnny’s arms.

But reality shines at him from the corner of his eye as the cursor blinks at him and he has to put in at least a token of protest because,

“Need to finish this.  Need to ge-“

The hands tighten again and the eyes go a little hard but a lot dark and-

“You **need** to get some rest, **Taeyong**.” It’s not a request and fuck but he’s so ready to give in. “It will be there tomorrow and you have plenty of time to work on this song.  But you need to rest and need to come home.”

And it’s enough.

Because he says it in a definitive tone and there is no room for argument.

(Especially when Taeyong doesn’t want to find one.)

So he lets himself melt into those hands.

That embrace.

Lets himself be pushed away from the computer, he knows Johnny is saving his work and shutting it down, lets himself be pulled up from his seat, he’s a little wobbly weak in the knees from sitting for so long but also from the drop he feels coming, lets himself be pressed into a hoody, that smells so very clean and Johnny-like he may just cry, and guided by an arm around his waist.

“Gonna take such good care of you baby.”  Johnny mutters into his the side of his face and starts walking him out the door. 

Promising to help Taeyong relax. 

To take care of him.

And he does.

A shower and a meal.

A bed and comfy pajamas.

A man holding him close and keeping him warm and running a hand through his hair till he can’t even think of staying awake.

And all the while Taeyong doesn’t have to think.

Doesn’t have to make one single choice about anything, because Johnny knows exactly what he wants and what he needs and exactly which of those two should take precedence over the other or if they are the same thing.

Taeyong loves it.

There’s so much he loves now a days.

And it’s amazing and terrifying and so so wonderful.

Because Lee Taeyong leads an exhausting existence, but fuck if it isn’t worth it to have a man like Johnny love him.

He’d lead a million more lives of exhaustion if he got to have Johnny in all of them.

(Honest he’s pretty sure that just getting to have Johnny for all of this one would be enough to tide him over for an eternity of exhausting lives alone.)

-

Taeyong never got tired of looking at Johnny.

There was something inherently impish yet calming about Johnny Seo’s face.  Which of the two was more predominate was always a tossup that involved lighting, angles, expressions, and the context of whether one was so in love with Johnny Seo that sometimes they couldn’t think straight.

If asked, Taeyong would say that the first thing that came to mind was that each of Johnny’s features was **strong**.

Not in a harsh or large manner that people might assume when it was said.  But that they were steady and prominent and held a soft kind of strength that implied just how deeply he could and would care. 

That belied the kind of support that could act as the foundation for a skyscraper, just waiting to be there for someone who needed it.

Profile like a renaissance painting that one would only see behind panels of strong glass or grainly downsized in a textbook, because it was too important too fragile a piece to be exposed to the elements but offered a clear look back into history at someone who was important enough to have commissioned the portrait, or to have someone commission it of them.

His nose sloped elegantly but a little flat.

Dark eyes and an inherently smiling mouth made Taeyong feel comforted.  

(Before he had the pleasure of being the cause of those smiles, Taeyong knew with an absolute certainty that they could be the thing that destroyed him and he wouldn’t even be mad about it.  Because it would be worth it wouldn’t it, just to have him smile at him with love and mischief and sweet contentment?)

Taeyong never got tired of Johnny looking at him.

Quick glances paired with a quirked lip as some director or photographer laid out their vision, meant to share a joke between them.  That performance intense look that was closed off and cool and utterly professional, so similar to what people told Taeyong was his own image, which stared out of screens when their mvs and live stages played.  A hooded stare into his soul at night as Johnny fucked into him, slow and long strokes that drug against every part of Taeyong and made him want to beg Johnny to never stop.  Fluttering eyes that creaked open in the mornings and softened as soon as they met his own.

The love stupid smiles that never needed a reason, or were confined to a time of day, to appear. 

Love stupid smiles that he returned and gave every chance he got.

Because Johnny made him stupid with love.

Full and stupid and drunk with love.

Because sometimes Johnny looked at Taeyong like he was the best thing in his life.

Would hold him like Taeyong was precious, like it wasn’t just a cheesy joke when he’d said he could hold the world between his hands and cradled Taeyong’s face in his palms, like he deserved all the praise and sweet kisses Johnny could manage to give him.

Sometimes that much love and adoration was overwhelming. 

And Taeyong would almost convince himself he **didn’t** deserve it and that he’d **tricked** Johnny into loving him and caring about him and-

And Johnny would tell him that was stupid.

And wrong.

And completely incomprehensible.

Because love isn’t something you can trick someone into, he’d say.  Caring isn’t a trap or a manipulation.  Yes, Taeyong made Johnny like him.  Made Johnny love him.  Made it happen because Taeyong is sweet.  He cares about almost everyone they meet in some way.  Taeyong worries if everyone is eating enough, sleeping enough, studying enough, practicing enough.  Taeyong cares about the easy things and the hard things, and he holds himself to the highest standard of everything while telling others that ‘we all learn at our own pace, work and succeed at our own pace, not all of us are going to be amazing at everything’.

That Taeyong shoulders leadership like he was born for it. 

Like he was made for it.

Like he hates it.

Like its killing him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And that, Johnny tells him, isn’t someone who doesn’t deserve to be loved and cared for.

That is someone who deserves it the most.

Taeyong can find himself believing it more and more every day.

-

“Please, please, please.”  He whispers.

Begs.

Wants.

“Please, Johnny, please.”

Is he desperate?

Yes.

God yes.

He is.

(Sometimes all he feels is desperation.

Pleading with a universe that’s so expansive and so full that it doesn’t have room to care about one little speck of a human.  To just please, give him something to not fall apart to.  Something that won’t be a sword he falls on or uses to let or cut others down with.)

He’s desperate and wanting and trying so very hard not to be loud.

Because it’s the middle of the night and Johnny just got home from an NCT Night Night and people are sleeping.

But they both want this.

They both really want this.

He’d been curled in on himself, half asleep on half of the bed, not consciously making the decision to wait up for Johnny but-

But sometimes Taeyong needed to see Johnny’s face, see the tired but satisfied look in his eyes when he got home from a broadcast, and share a smile with him before he could sink into oblivion.

So he’d heard the door open and had been pulling himself out of half asleep, he was maybe about a quarter asleep, when Johnny laid down next to him. 

Pet a hand over and down and up his side.

Rubbed a thumb into the swell of his hip.

Nuzzled a night air cold nose into the back of his neck.

Pressed just a little into his back and asked in a hush hoarse voice, “Do you want this baby?”

He always asks, because Taeyong can say no if or when ever he wants and Johnny would respect that.

“Yes.”

It came out as relief. 

As revelation.

With the whispered prayer reverence that they had for each other.

And Taeyong had turned himself to face Johnny.

Brought his hands up to that wonderful beautiful face that loved him, eyes dark and satisfied in the barely there light from the crack in the window curtains.  His dark adjusted eyes taking in the way Johnny’s smile turned up a bit at the corners and moved towards his own.

Kissing Johnny was almost too much.

Almost too good.

Made Taeyong feel almost too good.

Made Taeyong believe he had to of lived a singularly righteous past life to deserve someone who would kiss him like Johnny Seo did.

Soft lips against his own.

Warm and just firm enough to be solid and real and make him feel like he was living a fantasy.

Johnny must have licked them before he turned over because they were just that bit wet and it was a little slippery.

Taeyong just barely poked his tongue between his lips and that was enough for Johnny to press in.

Press deep.

That brushing hand turned into a palm on his waist, fingers gripped into his skin just the edge of tight enough to make Taeyong go a little hard, the other hand between them and then around to the back of his neck and pulling him in.

Reducing the space between them.

Nearly chest to chest.

Just stopping short.

Johnny giving him those last centimeters of space to decide what to do with.

Taeyong’s hands moved from Johnny’s face to his bare shoulders and gave a tug.

He wanted that space gone.

Wanted them in each other’s space, so that it was theirs together.

Johnny broke the kiss with a laugh and pressed closer.

Pushed his hand under Taeyong’s shirt and moved up taking the shirt with it. 

Taeyong lifted his arms as he rolled onto his back and Johnny pulled the shirt off of him in a smooth practiced motion that would have tripped them up in the first months of their relationship.  Then he set both hands to wandering feather light touches across his torso.   Letting his nails drag over Taeyong’s ribs just so, rubbing into the indent of his collar bone, dipping just into the elastic of his shorts and eventually pushing them down his hips.

Taeyong meanwhile slid his hands into Johnny’s hair, tangled his fingers close to the scalp, gave a few light scratches to the short hairs at the base of his neck, and tugged again.

He wanted him closer.

Wanted Johnny on him.

Liked it when he pressed down on top of him.

Pushing him down into the bed. 

Weight a comfort and stabilizing force for him to push up against.

And he did.

Canted his hips a little bit up so they brushed against each other.

Again and again.

Till they found that perfect slide against the other.

And Johnny pushed down a little and Taeyong ground up a little.

And it was perfect.

A little dry and just peeking around the corner at rough, but so fucking good.

Taeyong broke from the kiss and let out one loud groan into the dark room.

Johnny huffed out a sound that was part chuckle and part moan of his own and settled onto his elbows above Taeyong to get that much more leverage.

So fucking perfect.

It left Taeyong wanting more.

Begging for more.

Burying his head into Johnny’s neck and whimpering.

“Please, please.”

And Johnny was so good.

So good to him.

He leaned all his weight onto one arm and slid the other between them and around them and Taeyong’s head hit the pillow beneath him.

“Fuck, ohmygodJohnny.”

He ran a thumb across Taeyong’s head and his own and used the precome to slick his hand.

And then it was a smooth hot slide between them.

Tight in Johnny’s hold and Taeyong lost the majority of control over his hips and just pushed into it.

Into the hold and into Johnny’s body.

Closed eyes popping open when he feels the older boy’s mouth on his jaw.

Then down his neck and shoulder.

A wet, open mouth trail of kisses leaving his skin prickling and shivers spreading through his limbs.

“Johnny.”  It’s a whisper that morphs into a moan as teeth scrape against his meat of his pectoral.

And then Johnny is tightening he grip and moving his hand just that much faster and Taeyong bucks into it.

He can feel that compression in his abdomen. 

Coiling heat beneath his skin threatening to burn him up from the inside out.

The friction between them giving him just enough push to that cliff. 

He pulls at Johnny’s shoulders with a sudden strength.

“So close, so close, please, please, hyung.”  He babbles at him.

Johnny presses silencing kisses to his lips. 

Then to his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and the corners of his eyes and the cupid’s bow of his lips. 

Taeyong can hear Johnny saying something just barely over the sound of their pants.

He’s breathing words into his skin.

“Love you.”

“Thank you so much Yongie.”

“So good.”

It’s enough to give him a slow motion tip over into release, a sweet gentle current that he rides out, that gets drawn out as Johnny keeps moving against him.  A slick easy slide that brings Johnny to that edge not long after him.

Johnny tips to the side of him and they just lay there panting for several minutes. 

Even though he can feel the come cooling to an uncomfortable tackiness on him, Taeyong leans over and places a kiss to each of Johnny’s cheeks and the little wrinkle between his eyes and against smiling lips. 

“Love you, hyung.”  He says to him.

Johnny reaches out with a dopey smile and wipes the sweaty hair back from his forehead.

“Love you too, baby.”

-

Taeyong likes Johnny’s hands.

They look strong and large.

Tanned and callused.

Hands that show how he’s worked and how he’s played.

Practice and dedication.

They are solid dependable and oh so careful when they hold him or take him apart.

Clenched into fists or just loose and in his lap, they bloom open easy as a morning glory at first light when Taeyong touches them. 

Because Johnny knows that Taeyong is tactile. 

Likes touching and holding things.

Likes touching and holding Johnny’s hands.

As a grounding.

As a comfort.

Likes Johnny’s hands on him anyway he can get them.

One each steady on his shoulders, a warm guiding reassurance at the small of his back, hot bands pressing his thighs  up and to his chest as he drives into him.

Sometimes Taeyong brushes the sides of their hands against one another. 

And Johnny’s palm opens to him. 

Fingers starfish wide and he puts his own, palm down so they are connected, into it.

Tangles their fingers together.

Holds on tight to a reality that doesn’t seem possible at times.

(Didn’t seem possible when he was young and cold to others out of defense, much like he still is but now with a wider circle of trusted ones.  Because no one saw him, saw Taeyong.  They just saw a pretty boy with a pretty face who did pretty things with his pretty body and didn’t always have the pretty reactions they were looking for.  No one but family, and that became rare as he grew older as it does, held his hand just because they wanted to.  Because they could.)

He knows what love feels like because of those hands.

Knows how a touch can provide happiness.

Can be calming.

Can be exactly what he needs and what he wants and what he can provide now that someone will let him.

Taeyong loves looking at their hands clasped together.

Because Johnny lets him have this.

Because Johnny likes it when they hold hands and touch and comfort each other.

Because Johnny may treat him like a work of art sometimes, but always like an interactive exhibit that should be experienced and not some pretty thing on a pedestal that is held behind glass.

-

“Ah hyung,” Taeyong had just turned away from his computer and was startled. “You’re here.”

“Well you did ask me to come by.”  Johnny said still at the door and grinning at how flustered Taeyong was.

“Yeah, yea- yes, I did.”  Taeyong took a few steadying breaths and waved for the older boy to come further into the studio. 

He patted the chair next to him in invitation.

“So what’s up?” Johnny waited till he was sitting to ask.

“I-I, I uh.” And just like that Taeyong was stumbling over his words and back to second guessing himself.

Johnny put an arm over his shoulders and pulled him into his lap.

“It’s ok baby, just say or ask whatever it is you want.”  Johnny told him softly.

“Right, right, ok,” Taeyong nodded and said as decisively as he could. “I’ve got something I want you to listen to.”

“Okay.”  Johnny agreed with a little bit of a laugh and tilt of his head.

Taeyong wordlessly pushed his headphones over his ears and reached over to start the song he’d been working on for nearly two weeks.

The melody had been driving him crazy for longer than weeks, but it wasn’t till he had found one of his older lyric notebooks that he’d been able to put it to keys. 

Had the words to mix with bass and synth.

Piano and strings and some acoustic guitar.

Once he started putting it together everything seemed to just mesh.

To fall into place just as it should be, just as it needed to be.  Time passing by too quickly before he had to turn his attention to something else, thus the real challenge was in finding the right times to work on it, between schedules and wanted to be sure he was alone in the studio.  The shared studio space making what could have easily been maybe two days worth the work stretch out.

But it had been good in the long run.

Had given Taeyong something to focus on and think about, agonize about like he did everything, during the long hours of travel and practice.

So here they were, Taeyong held captive in Johnny’s lap as he listened to the song he’d made for him.

And it was **for** Johnny.

A declaration with soft words and soft harmonies that Taeyong had let flow from his fingertips and vocal chords, just for the man he loved.

So it was a bit nerve wracking to sit in Johnny’s lap as he listened to Taeyong’s heartfelt words, raw and unheard by anyone other than the two of them, and watch the minute changes in his facial expressions.

Ticks and twitches and the way his eyes snapped to Taeyong about thirty seven seconds in, just where the words ‘I love you’ came in for the first time.

There would be no mistaking the message in the three minute and twenty seven seconds he had given Johnny and he waited with bated breath through the entirety of it.

The silence afterwards could possible destroy him.

“Do you like it?”  Taeyong was able to ask, trying to push away that terribly familiar mixture of shy and anxious at all the possible reactions coming his way.

“Do I like-, Taeyong,” Johnny’s hands were resting on either side of his face and he pulled him towards him.  Smiling, he placed a sweet quick kiss to his lips then whispered into the space between them. “I love it baby, love it so much.”

Taeyong felt his shoulders slump and his cheeks rise from a relieved smile.

“Good.  Good,” He pulled back a little and tapped out a message on his phone. “Great, well you can listen to it whenever you want now.”

He could feel the answering vibration of Johnny’s phone against his leg.

“Are you sure you should be sending me this, Yongie?”  Johnny asked, even thought he could see him saving it to his phone.

“It’s yours.”  Taeyong told him.

“What?” 

“SM’s never going to let me release this as is,” Taeyong leaned forward to click through a few screens and try to will his blush away, before looking at Johnny again. “And just this once, I don’t want anyone changing anything about my song.  Besides I made it for you, about you, it’s yours.”

“Oh baby.”  Johnny stroked a thumb over his cheek.

“Take good care of it hyung,” Taeyong said shaking his phone a little and smiling into his palm. “It’s one of the only two copies now.”

“Did you just-?”  Johnny trailed off.

“Mhmm.” He nodded. “Don’t want any trace of it on the company computer.”

This startled a laugh out of Johnny and he barely managed to get out, “You are amazing.”

“Did you lock the door?”  Taeyong asked him once it looked like he’d stopped.

“Wouldn’t have you like this if I hadn’t.”  Johnny returned smartly, tightening his arms around his waist. 

“Well,” Taeyong turned himself in Johnny’s lap, knees bracketing his legs the best he could in the rolling chair they were sitting in.  His arms slid over his shoulders and he pulled his face even closer to the other boy’s. “How would you like me another way?”

“Lee Taeyong, are you propositioning me?”  Johnny asked with a delighted grin.

“I think we’re probably way past propositioning, hyung.”  Taeyong said. 

“That’s not a no.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever tell you no, hyung.  You treat me too well to ever need to.”

Taeyong liked making Johnny feel good.  He deserved it and he spent so much time making sure that Taeyong was taken care of and was feeling good that he wanted to do the same for him.

Like writing a song for just the two of them to know.

Like sliding down to his knees on the studio floor and putting his hands to Johnny’s pants.

Waiting for an acknowledgement, an agreement, to what he was offering.

It came quickly. 

With blown wide pupils and a hand reaching down to cup his cheek. 

With a nod and Johnny settling back into his chair.

(The comfy one that had just enough plush to not hurt your back but plenty of support to keep you upright.  The release mechanism was also broken so it wouldn’t lean back too far and it was perfect for what Taeyong had planned.  Which is exactly why it was the chair he offered Johnny when he first came in.)

Taeyong pulled the waist of his joggers and underwear down as best he could, silently thanking Johnny’s preference towards sweats on their off days, leaving Johnny’s mostly soft dick exposed.

He wrapped a hand around it.

Studied the way it sat, still limp and almost just a little tint of pink against tan, in his slender hand and gave a few dry strokes.

Johnny inhaled a little in what was probably discomfort and Taeyong started pressing open wet kisses to the tip.  Slid his lips along the sides, tongue following and soon his hand was moving fast and smooth and the flesh in his hand was getting harder and bigger.

And he pressed forward.

Lips parted and teeth pulled back.

It didn’t take long to establish a small rhythm of bobbing his head up and down and twisting his hand around what wasn’t in his mouth.  Didn’t take long for both of Johnny’s hands to rest on the sides of his face, a soft hold that said he was there and engaged but not directing Taeyong’s movements.

He felt Johnny’s thumb brushing against his cheek. 

Could feel the press inside and outside his mouth.

He pulled off.

Johnny rubbed away the little bit of spit that had escaped his mouth.

“Tell me what you want me to do, hyung, please?”  Taeyong sounded a little desperate, but he so very much so wanted to hear what Johnny wanted.

“Want you to put your mouth back on me, baby.”  Johnny cupped the back of his neck and gave the slightest pull.

Taeyong nodded and was quick to suck the tip of his cock back into his mouth.

Run his tongue around the bottom of the head, right where Johnny was sensitive, and revel in the way he let out a hissing breath and gave a thrust into his mouth.

“Can you take more, Yongie.”  It wasn’t said as a real question because they both knew he could.  But it still made Taeyong keen at the back of his throat.

Looking up and finding Johnny’s eyes trained on him.

Pupils blown out and a laser focus on Taeyong and his mouth and his face and there was just a shade of affection to be seen crinkles of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the same affection that was there nearly every time Taeyong looked at Johnny and he looked back,

Hands made their way into his hair and it wasn’t long before Johnny was taking control, moving him where he wanted and how he wanted.

Exactly how Taeyong liked it.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this sweetheart.”  Johnny groaned as the flat of his tongue brushed against the entirety of his length on one of his pull backs.

Taeyong felt a little weight in his chest drop away.

He **was** good at this.

He was good at anything Johnny wanted him to be good at.

He liked being good at things.

He liked being good for Johnny.

Liked it when Johnny loved him and made love to him and fucked him.

Liked the way Johnny’s dick felt in his hands and in his body.

Liked the way if felt in his mouth.

Firm.

Solid. 

Heavy.

Physical and present.

Warm and twitching as Taeyong brought Johnny closer and closer to release.

He relaxed a little more and swallowed as best he could around him. 

Fingers clenched tightly in his hair and it felt so good.

So fucking good.

A little sharp shot to his fuzzing out brain and it set him humming with pleasure.

“Oh god. Fuck. TaeyongHolyShit.”

Liked it so much he loved it.

-

Taeyong is driven.

Taeyong is methodical.

Taeyong is a perfectionist.

Taeyong is those things because he has to be.

Taeyong is those things because after a while it became easier for people to see him through his eccentricities and his physical appearance, and that became all they expected him to be.  A pretty boy who liked things to be just right.

Just so.

Who, some people no doubt thought, wanted the world around him to be just as perfect as he thought himself.

But it’s the opposite.

Taeyong wants things in order.

He wants things clean and with a place they belong.

Wants things to work and is willing to put in the effort to make them work.

Wants his dream to be realized and will stop at nothing to make sure it does.

Wants it.

Because half the time Lee Taeyong is a mess inside.

A trashed room that’s being searched, pillows and blankets shredded, every table over turned, pictures torn from the walls and glass shattered on the ground.

The stillness of a tsunami wrecked town, waters collected in shallow pools in torn roof houses and nothing but the grass and trees in the winds moving between pieces of rubble as far as the eyes can see.

His internal world is a desolate dessert and a raging forest fire and a home that’s been broken into.

Taeyong is driven, is methodical, is a perfectionist because if he doesn’t have something to do, to focus on, he could lose himself to his own insecurities.  To his spiraling thoughts of just how easy he could fall apart if there was nothing to be that light at the end of his tunnel.  He needs the life he has, the one that drags all the best and the worst things out of him and exposes them to the world, whether it’s looking or not, needs to have some release. 

Needs to be able to make music.

To be able to create and create and create.

Even though it’s so hard.

Even though sometimes it feels like it hates him more than he hates himself.

He needs this.

Music had always been his outlet.

So he grabs hold of it, of the life he’s living, and digs into it.

Tries to make his nails into claws and his teeth into fangs.

To sink into what he has, ready to hang on when it tries to shake him loose.

He knows how hard he’s fought, tooth and nail and every follicle of his hair and every muscle in his body aches with it, to get where he is.

To keep his place.

To make sure the people depending on him keep their places, because he’s seen their journeys to where they are, seen them struggle, and prevail, and nearly collapse from strain of the industry.

And Taeyong feels so terrible sometimes.

Like he’s a hideous monster who makes the ones he loves miserable by pushing them, making them worry, go past their limits, do more than a person should be asked to do.

And yes he does some of it in the name of what the company tells him.

Some he does in the name of hoping the company won’t say anything if they see he’s already pushing the others.

And he hates it a lot of the time.

Mostly a slowly steady simmer in the back of his soul.

Quietly bubbling, never reducing.

And sometimes it gets added to and added to and added to and added to.

And he hates himself and the mess he could make, is making, has made, of his life and everyone else’s so so very much.

But Johnny.

Johnny loves him.

Loves Lee Taeyong mess and all.

Not despite his tornado aftermath insides.

Not despite the fact that sometimes Taeyong can’t turn himself off.

Can’t find the way out of a creative breakthrough that’s morphed into a slump and is manifested in twelve hours in a studio with an empty document glaring blue white from a computer screen and papers all around him.

That he’s the unofficial and official leader of this growing, oh god how many members are they going to eventually have, group of teenage boys and young adults.  And he’s the one who is supposed to be in charge and organized and present to help and represent.

And part of him loves it and part of him hates it.

And Johnny is there.

Johnny is there and loves every part of him

Loves the dichotomy of Lee Taeyong.

Supports him when he doesn’t think he can support himself.

Tells him he’s beautiful and means it beyond the becoming too casual commentary of others.

(Johnny has seen his mismatched patchwork insides and calls them gorgeous. 

Presses kisses to his palms and over the restraints they’ve agreed to on his wrists and tells him that he’ll hold Taeyong together when he can’t do it himself.  That he’ll be there when he falls apart, he mouths into the taunt skin of his navel as his back arches up.  Looks him in the eyes and gently stretches fingers inside him and tells him that he’s worth gathering and keeping and he’s so pretty and so good.)

Loving Johnny Seo hurts because it’s so good.

Because Johnny is so good to him.

For him.

Because Johnny loves him and helps him love himself.

-

“I’m gonna make you feel so good baby.”  Johnny tells him.

Says it into his lips, into his throat, into the chambers of his heart.

Says it as he presses Taeyong down and pulls the knot of his towel open.

Lays Taeyong bare.

For his eyes to take in and his hands to give and take what they want.

(God it was all Taeyong could ask for.  Was all he could have hoped for when he’d gone out in a mask and a cap and hoodie to buy fucking sex rope, because Johnny had mentioned it would look good on him.  He wanted to look good for Johnny.  Be good for Johnny.)

Taeyong lays pliant.

(This night especially was for Johnny.

Johnny who had to watch as person after person were told they were going to debut, were told they were going to be part of this massive group.  The next biggest thing!  Told they were chosen for their talents and their hard work and how they would round out the group, give it something special.

And Johnny was passed over and passed over, and Taeyong had seen how it had hurt him and beaten down a part of the wonderful beautiful light inside of him.

And it wasn’t fair.

Wasn’t right that Johnny had been there longer than all of them and he wasn’t getting what he deserved.  Wasn’t right that it took nearly a year for Johnny to officially become part of the team he’d been almost leading for years.

Limitless had been as much a success as it could be.

And with immediate promotions out of the way, Taeyong could finally give Johnny something to really remember his debut by.)

Watches as Johnny uncoils the rope, lays it in his hand and pulls to test it.

Taeyong had made sure it wouldn’t hurt him when he got it.  The rope is smooth and just thick enough to not cut into his skin.  The fibers had been softer than he’d thought they’d be and had enough give to not be in danger of immediately rubbing his skin raw.

So it’s no surprise that Johnny smiles at him, tells him he chose right, in approval.

It still makes his heart melt and his brain go a little dopey at the open praise.

Johnny runs a palm down one of his les and rests it on his ankle.  Looks him in the eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure about this Taeyong?” 

Gives him a chance to say he’s uncomfortable, wants out, and Johnny would let him go in a second if that’s what he wanted.

Good thing that was the opposite of what he wanted.

“Yes,” He says. “Want it.  Want you.”

He never wants Johnny to let him go.

“Alright baby,” Johnny seems to shake off any lingering inhibitions.  Something settles around his shoulders, makes them go back a little makes his spine straighten. 

Takes on obvious mantle of control and settles between Taeyong’s.

Not long and he starts.

First a loop around Taeyong’s ankle.

Ties it loose but secure and pushes his foot back, knee bending and going up, and circles his thigh with the rope twice before stretching it to the other.  He pushes that foot back and weaves the rope around and between that ankle and thigh. 

Then up and diagonal across Taeyong’s chest and around his shoulder.

Crossing again to the other shoulder and down and diagonal.

Then he’s pushing an arm under Taeyong’s waist and pulling the rope up his back to against the length of his spine and between his shoulder blade.

Like a knot of tension up his entire back.

Except he’s relaxing into it.

The lines of minor compression around his chest making his breathing go deep in compensation. 

The steady hold on his legs spreading them open and out.

And then Johnny’s sliding his hands up his arms and to his wrists.  Circles one each and pulls them up above his head and presses them together and down with one hand.  Uses the other to pull the rope up and to them.  Threads it over and between them then to the rails of the headboard, and just like that Taeyong is held in place. 

Tied up with rope to spare and a true restriction of movement.

A realization, an actualization, that settles over him like an answered prayer.

Makes him feel like a sheet left on a clothes line.

Sun warmth dried and billowing where the wind takes it, but held in place.

Johnny sits back on his heels to survey his work and even if Taeyong couldn’t have seen the way he was looking at him, he would have felt that hot gaze making its way over his body.  Johnny’s eyes were all dark and void and had Taeyong caught in their hold.  When he speaks his voice is hoarse with desire and breaks Taeyong free enough to think again.

“I’ve gotta get-“

“In the drawer.”  Taeyong gestured at the nightstand with his head, glad for a moment to break from the eye contact.

Johnny leaned over, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the lube Taeyong had put there that morning.

“Thought we were out of this.”  It was Johnny’s favorite, a kind that boasted itself as extra wet and made Taeyong blush just thinking about buying it, and they had been out of it for nearly three weeks.

“I’ve been planning this for a while.”  Taeyong says, feeling his face warm over and clears his throat.

“Oh?” Johnny pops the cap and starts warming it in his hands.

“Wanted to do something special, fo-” Taeyong cut himself off with a sudden exhale as Johnny pressed a finger into him. 

The first one always caught him off guard for some reason.

“For what, baby?”  Johnny asked, the finger in him pushing and moving and stretching.

“You.” Taeyong says once he has a hold of himself.  Johnny stopped moving. “Finally with us, with me.”

“Oh Yongie, I’ve been with you.”  He says after a few beats of silence and with so much tenderness it makes his heart thunder.

“You know what I mean, hyung.”  Taeyong whined and tried to shift his hips.

Johnny pulled away and Taeyong whined louder just to have Johnny suddenly over him.

Cock brushing against his own slowly hardening one and hands on the bed on either side of his head.

“You’re so fucking good to me baby boy,” Johnny whispered to him, leaning down for a long deep kiss that left Taeyong aching. “Love you so much.”

He repeats it in kisses over his lips and the apples of his cheeks. 

Then he moves himself back down and goes back to fingering him.

Steadily working Taeyong open.

Soon it’s two talented, thick fingers inside him.  Prodding and stretching and searching.

And they brush and push and move.

And Taeyong feels sparks and his breath hitches.

Then they move away and stretch and prod and then brush.

And sparks and breath hitching.

And Johnny does it over and over.

Plays around the edges of his prostate, nearly pulling his fingers out all the way and adding more lube then pushing the back in, a filthy squelch of a sound that makes part of Taeyong want to curl away and part of him wants to soar because he knows how Johnny loves it.

“Kind of funny, all this preparing but you didn’t prepare yourself.”  He says it in an almost casual tone that paired with the way his fingers were twisting and scissoring inside him was nearly unbearable.

“I-I didn’t think about- about it.”  Taeyong could barely get out.

“Glad you didn’t,” Johnny tells him. “Love seeing you on my fingers.”

He pulls them back and pushes in with three and Taeyong lets out a loud squeak.

“Love making you come on them.”

Johnny presses in and down and right over his prostate.

Over and over and Taeyong arches into it.

The rope goes tight around him and within seconds he’s spilling over.

Johnny rubbing him through it, leaving him shaking in the after effects.

He can’t speak.

Can only make some vague sounds so soon after an orgasm.

Throaty and stuttering.

(Taeyong’d felt shy about it the first times, that he couldn’t tell Johnny how much he liked it, how thankful he was, how much more he wanted.

But Johnny stopped that.

Told him he loved being able to make the eloquent lyricist inarticulate with pleasure.

That it was a point of pride.)

Johnny doesn’t give him much time to come down from that high before he’s wrapping a hand around Taeyong and dragging a set of keens from him with every slow slide along his over sensitive dick.  Mouthing at the taunt sweat slick skin of his stomach and placing deliberate soft bites around the crossing rope.

He can feel the how hard Johnny is.

Brushing against his thighs as he leaves a trail of fluttering touches to Taeyong’s body before he moves back to line up and takes the hand off Taeyong to slick himself up before settling it back at his base.

Then he’s pushing in and in and in.

Slowly slowly slowly.

Slick and hot and so so big.

Taeyong’s legs pulled back by the rope, taunt and quivering, at just the right angle to make his abdomen tight.

Make him feel every centimeter of Johnny sliding against his walls.

It doesn’t take long before Johnny sets a pace.

Deep and thorough and pressing him down down into the bed and down down into his headspace filled with mounting pain tinted pleasure.

And he doesn’t know what he’s saying, what he’s crying, just knows that his mouth is open and sound is coming out.

But it must be good, must be encouraging.

Because Johnny goes harder and a little faster.

The hands pressing his legs open grip a little tighter and press with a little more force.

And it’s so so much, so so **good** , that Taeyong knows he’s wailing with it.

Johnny’s hitting his prostate with ever thrust and sliding against it as he pulls back and there’s a slick hand on him and another hand splayed warm and heavy over heart.

And Johnny looms over him. 

A near wild but all loving look in his eyes and teeth baring grin.

A look that should be aggressive, threatening, but on Johnny it’s translated to caring and dominating but not domineering and everything Taeyong could ever want or need.

He whines high high loud from the back of his throat at another rough slide against his prostate and the hand on his chest clenches around rope, pulls up as the hand on his dick goes up and twists around his head and-

It’s too much and just enough.  And it feels like the river rapids he’s been ride have sent him over a waterfall freefall and he’s come to the surface to float and he doesn’t really know who he is anymore, what’s happening, where he is.

Just knows that his brain feels like it’s padded in silk and cotton and eventually that there’s someone stroking his limbs.

Stretching them out. 

Releasing some kind of restraint and running a cloth over him as Taeyong feels himself drifting back to earth and his body.

He lays there, boneless and completely limp.

Let’s Johnny slowly unwind the rope from his wrists, from his ankles and thighs and around his chest and shoulders. 

Displays a different kind of trust.

One that tells Johnny he knows he’ll take care of him.

And is willing to let him.

Wants him to.

And Johnny understands because from the very moment they first sank into this relationship, Taeyong was sure Johnny could understand him.  Could speak his language and that Taeyong was able to speak Johnny’s in return. 

Bodily tells and vocal inflections.

Hard stares into the nothingness and pained but grateful smiles.

They understood each other.

So Taeyong mustered up enough strength to take hold of one of Johnny’s hands in his. 

Grips it tight.

Threads their fingers together.

Palm to palm.

Life and love lines meeting and connecting.

And gives him a smile, so full of all the love he has for this wonderful kind amazing man that loves him.

It takes a few moments for Johnny to meet his eyes, but once he does it takes only a second for a returning smile to curl out across his face.

It only takes a second for him to light up in that special way that makes Taeyong want to do dumb dangerous things like shout his love to world.

So he does.

In the quiet of an empty dorm, Taeyong places his other hand on Johnny’s face and whispers to him,

“I love you.”

And just like that world knows.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr if you want: meetmeinthepit-fightme  
> also the shear self restraint i showed in not writing an inside joke is baffling (eye to eye, tit to tit) so here's to you meg you fucking beautiful piece of shit that i love


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